Читать книгу Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II - Egan Pierce - Страница 13

“Well, Sir, the mercer's wife, from Watling Street, thinks living in style is evinced by going once a year to a masquerade at the new Museodeum, or Argyle Rooms; having her daughters taught French, dancing, and music—dancing a minuet at Prewterers' Hall, or Mr. Wilson's{1} annual benefit—in getting a good situation in the green boxes—going to Hampstead or Copenhagen House in a glass coach on a Sunday—having card-parties at home

1 Mr. Wilson's flaming bills of “Dancing at the Old Bailey,”

which are so profusely stuck up about the city, are said to

have occasioned several awkward jokes and blunders; among

others related, is that of a great unintellectual Yorkshire

booby, who, after staring at the bills with his mouth open,

and his saucer eyes nearly starting out of his head with

astonishment, exclaimed, “Dang the buttons on't, I zee'd urn

dangling all of a row last Wednesday at t' Ould Bailey, but

didn't know as how they call'd that danzing—by gum there

be no understanding these here Lunnun folk!”

during Lent, declaring she never drinks any thing else but the most bestest gunpowder tea, that she has a most screwciating cold, and that the country air is always salubrus, and sure to do her good.

“So much for living in style, and good breeding.”

“That's your true breeding—that's your sort my boys—

Fun, fire, and pathos—metre, mirth, and noise;

To make you die with laughter, or the hiccups,

Tickle your favourites, or smash your tea-cups.”

“By the way, in former times the term good-breeding meant a combination of all that was amiable and excellent; and a well-bred person would shrink from an action or expression that could possibly wound the feelings of another; its foundation was laid in truth, and its supporting pillars were justice and integrity, sensibility and philanthropy; but

“In this gay age—in Taste's enlighten'd times,

When Fashion sanctifies the basest crimes;

E'en not to swear and game were impolite,

Since he who sins in style must sure be right.”

A well-bred person must learn to smile when he is angry, and to laugh even when he is vexed to the very soul.

“It would be the height of mauvaise honte for a wellbred person to blush upon any occasions whatever; no young lady blushes after eleven years of age; to study the expression of the countenance of others, in order to govern your own, is indispensably necessary.

“In former times, no well-bred person would have uttered a falsehood; but now such ideas are completely exploded, and such conduct would now be termed a bore. My Lord Portly remarks, 'It is a cold day.' 'Yes, my Lord, it is a very cold day,' replies Major Punt. In two minutes after, meeting Lord Lounge, who observes he thinks the weather very warm—'Yes, very warm, my Lord,' is the reply—thus contradicting himself almost in the same breath. It would be perfectly inconsistent in a well-bred man to think, for fear of being absent. When he enters or leaves a drawing-room, he should round his shoulders, drop his head, and imitate a clown or a coachman. This has the effect of the best ruse de guerre—for it serves to astonish the ladies, when they afterwards discover, by the familiarity of his address, and his unrestrained manners, what a well-bred man he is; for he will address every fair one in the room in the most enchanting terms, except her to whom in the same party he had previously paid the most particular attention; and on her he will contrive to turn his back for the whole evening, and if he is a man of fashion, he will thus cause triumph to the other ladies, and save the neglected fair one from envious and slanderous whisperings.”

“An admirable picture of living in style, and good breeding, indeed!” cried Tom. “The game is in view and well worth pursuit; so hark forward! hark forward! my boys.”

Sparkle, now recollecting his engagement—with “you know who” as he significantly observed in the last Chapter, withdrew, after promising to take a stroll by way of killing an hour or two with them in the morning; and Tom and his Cousin soon after retired to rest—

“Perchance to sleep, perchance to dream.”